


Mirum

by Chandanista



Series: Hibernis Milite [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Harry's Birthday, The Cupboard Under The Stairs (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:08:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24688165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chandanista/pseuds/Chandanista
Summary: Draco discovers Harry's living conditions and is Not Impressed.Indeed, the situation is unacceptable. Completely without acceptance.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, James "Bucky" Barnes & Draco Malfoy
Series: Hibernis Milite [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1526771
Comments: 2
Kudos: 43





	1. Chapter 1

A _pop_ noise filled the space under the stairs at Number 4, Privet Drive, followed by a _snap_. 

Harry woke immediately, one hand flailing for the dangling cord to light the space, the other for his glasses. 

“Dobby, is that you?”

“It’s me, Potter. I insisted Dobby bring me here in person. Not having a birthday celebration at all? What are your guardians playing at?”

Harry stared, befuddled, at the midnight intruder. The light from his naked bulb was dim, but Draco’s white hair seemed to glow like some sort of halo. The other boy blinked, brow furrowing and nose wrinkling up.

“Potter. _Harry._ Where the bloody hell are we? Some secret clubhouse?”

“Um. No. This is…my cupboard. My room, you might say.” Harry looked down at this hands, folded on top of his blanket to keep from trembling. His shoulders hunched up around his ears and everything looked a bit watery. He’d never, ever imagined his secret friend would see this cupboard. Nor the inside of the Dursley’s home at all, to be honest. Shame clawed in his chest, his stomach twisted.

Draco’s mouth opened and shut several times, and then he sunk heavily on the cramped camp bed. “…Your cupboard? They keep you in the cupboard, and work you around the house, and ignore your birthday? Do they not know you are a wizard?”

“I rather think that’s why they do it. Don’t much seem to care for freaks like us.”

“This—it’s…unacceptable! Completely without acceptance! And we—” he pointed at himself, at Harry, and back again—“certainly aren’t freaks! They’re the freaks to treat a child like this!”

“Hush up, you’ll wake someone! What time is it, anyway?”

“Dunno. Eleven I’d guess. Not midnight yet, anyway.” Draco seemed to have passed by anger and settled into a subdued disgust. “You aren’t having me on? They actually put you in here every night?”

Harry shrugged.“For as long as I can remember.”

“Definitely unacceptable. When Father hears about this—”Draco cut himself off, and the boys sat silent for a moment, both recalling Lucius Malfoy was the reason they hadn’t seen each other in weeks. Draco scowled. “No…no that won’t do. My parents don’t know I’ve been writing you.” 

“It’s all right, Draco,” Harry reassured him. “I haven’t known any different. I’m quite used to it.”

“That’s not right though. You’re famous! You’re powerful, and a mystery; you would be welcome in nearly any wizarding home in England, both sides of the War, but these people treat you like…like a house elf. Someone needs to be able to do something about this!”

“Does Dobby sleep in a cupboard?” Harry asked. His heart had lodged somewhere in his throat. 

Draco squinted, thinking. “I don’t actually know. I don’t go to the house elf quarters, they come to me.” 

“Oh.”

There was a soft creak somewhere above their heads. Harry was fairly certain it was just the house settling, but the situation called for caution. “You’d best go home, Draco. We can’t have them find you in here,” he whispered.

Draco nodded and called out lowly, “Dobby.” 

A _pop_ and the house elf appeared in the rapidly filling cupboard. 

“Take me back to my room. Goodnight, Harry.”

“Cheers.”

_Snap_

***

“I don’t know what to do, Barnes. He took out an experienced Dark Lord but he puts up with his family’s abuse? It’s not right and it doesn’t make sense. Obviously I can’t tell Father.” 

“How about your godfather? He works at a school, doesn’t he? Bet he’s intervened for abused kids before.”

“Severus? That’s a brilliant idea!” Draco lit up, then slumped back down. “No, he’d wonder how I knew it, and I’d still have to admit I’m writing to Harry Potter behind Father’s back.”

“Draco,” Barnes said patiently, “I really don’t think there’s a scenario where you can get help for Harry and not admit you’ve been in contact.”

“Damn,” Draco scowled.

“Language,” Barnes said mildly. “Here’s a thought. While you’re getting things laid out with your godfather, have Dobby report to me if Harry’s family goes overboard. He’s not getting hurt in the cupboard, so it’s not an emergency yet. But if they beat him, or scream at him. I can defuse the situation.”

“They call him a freak. And don’t feed him right. You’ve seen him.”

Barnes frowned. “I’ll just have to bring him some food while I’m at it, won’t I?”

“That’s the best we can do right now, isn’t it?”

“At least you have a plan to help your friend. I’m proud of you for caring, Draco. Now. You can’t sit on the couch all night. You need to get in bed.”

Draco nodded and climbed into his bed. “This bed wouldn’t even fit in Harry’s cupboard. And that’s all the space he has, all the room his stupid muggle family lets him have,” he whispered. “Will you stay here until I fall asleep?”

“I’ll be on the couch. Now close your peepers.” 

***

When Harry woke on July 31, his tenth birthday, it wasn’t to Dudley’s heavy footsteps on the overhead stairs. It was to general chaos: someone was both ringing and hammering at the front door. As he took deep breaths to calm himself from the shock, Harry could hear Uncle Vernon swearing and grumbling as he thumped down the stairs. The pandemonium changed as Vernon’s voice rang out.

“WHAT IS THIS RUBBISH? Do you know what bloody time it is? Hey—wait, you can’t just barge in like that!” There was a murmur of other voices, but Harry couldn’t make out the words over Vernon’s shouts. 

He scrambled back on the camp bed as someone unlocked his cupboard door and swung it open, Vernon’s protests growing louder. Peering through the door were several strangely dressed people, anomalies to Privet Drive. A man and a woman in lengthy coats, military cut, but not a uniform Harry recognized. Behind them was a hook nosed man with a severe expression; his black eyes matched both hair and frock coat. Harry had the impression there were others stood to the side, as Vernon was still shouting but hadn’t stepped into view.

“Ah…hello? Good morning?” Harry blinked. He absently thought he should be afraid at this moment, but he was too confused to follow that thought very far.

“Harry Potter?” Military Woman asked, and he nodded.

“Looks like your anonymous source was right, Professor,” Military Man said to the dark lurker. He was waiving a—was that a wooden stick?- around, Harry could swear there were sparks the shape of letters fizzling around the tip of it. “Tiny cupboard, occupied regularly. Constantly, almost. Are these all your belongings?” He gestured broadly at the shelving on the tallest wall and a box tucked under his cot. Harry nodded. Military Woman had pulled out an old fashioned camera.

“What’s all this?” Aunt Petunia’s screech came from somewhere above their heads. “Vernon, why are there freaks in the hallway? Did they neighbors see?”

“Ah, Petunia, it’s a lovely morning. I regret that your day has begun with such a disturbance” an elderly sounding voice cut in, “Albus Dumbledore. We’ve corresponded.” 

“You! What are you doing here? Get away from that cupboard!”

Harry decided it was time to properly assess the situation. His bare feet on the floor, he stepped into the hallway as the military people made him a space, then returned to poke their heads and camera into the cupboard. 

Harry looked up at the dark adorned man. “Are you here to take me away?”

“No.” 

Harry waited for more but further words from the dour man weren’t forthcoming. He turned to the other figures in the crowded hallway. One cut a very elegant figure in heavily embroidered attire, blonde hair flowing down his back. Stood firmly between the elegant man and Uncle Vernon was Draco’s Not-Uncle James. The final man looked…well, like a very brightly decorated wizard. He had a long, white beard and hair. Spectacles perched on his crooked nose, and a detailed, floppy cap on his head matched his violet robe. The elegant blonde man, radiating disgust with a sneer, spoke. 

“This committee was sent to your…domicile…with a warrant authorized by the Minister for Magic. Chief Warlock Dumbledore assured us that one Mr. Harry Potter was safely living with his mother’s nonmagical relatives; however, a detailed anonymous statement caused some consternation. As the wizarding world owes this boy, we are here to investigate the validity of the claims.” He looked down his elegant nose at Harry, who was eyeing the man’s cane warily. Harry had been on the wrong end of Aunt Marge’s walking stick often enough to know not to dismiss such an accessory.

“WHAT RIGHT DO YOU HAVE what—” Uncle Vernon began again, attempting (and failing) to sidestep James. The military man promptly stepped over with a bit of paper. 

“Here’s the warrant, there’s the Minister’s signature. My comrade and I are aurors, we’re in the magical branch of law enforcement. This is Professor Snape, he passed along the report that alerted us to the potential situation. Lord Malfoy is here representing the magical education board. Of course, you already know Albus Dumbledore.” 

“Oh, Petunia,” the old man said sadly, “I asked you to care for Harry as your son, and raise him as an average boy, without flair or fame. I never believed you would blow so far to the other side of the parental pendulum.”

“You trusted her, and that beast of a man, to the point you didn’t even check on them?” The dark frocked man snarled. 

“Like you’re one to talk, you awful man!” Petunia screeched. “You took my sister away to that—that place, and you made her into someone I didn’t know. I thought you were her friend! Where were you when she died? Then her brat was dropped on my step and you didn’t visit it either! You abandoned him, just like you abandoned her! And left me to see her eyes, reminding me of…of her… ” 

Harry was shocked as Petunia trailed off and sunk to the lowest step in tears. He couldn’t recall ever hearing her speak so much of his mother.

“Dad? Mum, what’s happening?” Dudley’s voice preceded him down the stairs as he descended in his pajamas. His feet came down heavily and his stomach peered out through gaping spaces between buttons. There was a brief silence as everyone looked up. 

“Well,” Dumbledore said, in the cheerful tone of someone making lemonade from lemons, “at least Harry has escaped the appalling damage you inflicted upon that unfortunate boy.”

***

“So after they were done taking evidence and interviewing us all, they told my aunt and uncle they had to give me Dudley’s second bedroom and get me some clothes that fit. Someone’s going to visit weekly, but at random times, to make sure they don’t move me back into the cupboard and feed me properly. The wizard police –“

“Aurors.”

“Yes, the _aurors_ are there, overseeing the move. Your godfather ran off with the chief war-thingey—”

“Warlock.”

“Yeah, and your dad suggested that since things were handled, I could spend the day here instead of fetch and carrying my things at the house. He said the muggles could do it, since it was their fault I wasn’t already in a bedroom. So… that’s what happened.”

“I think it’s awful that they’re making you stay there. Even with the new room, you know they don’t like you. They only moved you into it because they were forced.” 

Harry shrugged. “Well, I’m used to them. If someone’s watching I don’t think it’ll be that bad. I mean, I’ll have an actual bedroom now, and they won’t be able to just take it away.”

“And next year is Hogwarts,” Draco reminded him. “So you won’t be there anymore at all.”

“Yes. Hogwarts.” Harry considered the thought, then asked, “Are you sure I’ll get an acceptance letter?”

Draco snorted and waved a hand dismissively. “Please. You’re Harry Potter. Your father was of old wizarding stock, and you obviously have magic. You will receive a Hogwarts letter.”

“It’s a private school, isn’t it? Are there public wizarding schools that cost less? There’s no way my relatives will pay, even to send me away.”

“Of course there are public schools. But, your parents had money. I’m certain an education trust fund was set up when you were born; it’s what everyone does.” 

“No one ever mentioned money. I think if the Dursleys knew I had any, they’d have taken it by now.”

“There you go, that’s why no one ever mentioned it. Look, if you’re that worried, I’ll ask Father about starting a Hogwarts scholarship for someone who lives with muggles.”

Harry swallowed a lump in his throat. “I…thank you, Draco,” he whispered, “you’re a good friend.”

Draco huffed. “It will make good press for the Malfoy family and should give him advantage on the board. Honestly I don’t know why we haven’t established one already. Now, come over here; you can use my spare broom.”

“Broom?”

“Of course Harry, I’m going to teach you to fly.”

They rushed to the garden shed, the dark figure of James Barnes following at a discreet distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Mirum" is Surprise in Latin.  
> I had to rewrite this, the initial version had Draco dragging Harry home and Lucius barging angrily in while wearing his wife's bathrobe. Although humorous, I decided it didn't work and made more questions than answers.
> 
> If you're interested in why I am going with the multiple schools theory, read on.  
> The U.K. population of wizards is estimated at minimum 13,000-15,000. That estimate is based on:
> 
> -The UK’s 24 known magical communities. It seems safe to assume 400-600 persons per location to make it an official wizard village. My high school class had 434. It isn’t that many people but enough to be a community within a community.
> 
> -The UK has thirteen professional teams in the Quidditch league; to be profitable there needs to be an appropriate number of fans.
> 
> -The Daily Prophet costs five knuts a day, that’s £0.05 a day using Rowling’s statement a galleon is approximately five pounds sterling (which I’d rather not, the gold bullion on its own is worth more than that -- but monetary exchange is another day’s Ted talk). To be profitable any paper needs substantial advertising and a decent circulation to entice the wixen businesses to advertise.
> 
> So, population estimates established, Hogwarts has a very low enrollment in comparison. Around 40 in Harry and Draco’s year alone, although it’s hinted their class is on the smaller side, having been born during a civil war. Quidditch spectator descriptions, the number of courses available in conjunction with described class sizes bring the enrollment at less than 600. With an average life expectancy of 138 this means there needs to be 110-120 new Wixen born per year, just to keep numbers steady. More than that is likely, as humans tend to increase in population most generations. 
> 
> Ergo, another school or two.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I moved on to the next moment that requires its own section, I wanted to give Harry a birthday. It only seemed fair to the poor boy.
> 
> Please note that, in this world, Harry is of Indian descent on his dad's side, and Hermione will be black. I don't care for the Harry Potter movies at all and, after the story mangling third movie, I haven't seen most of them; so I feel no obligation to having my characters resemble the movie casting.
> 
> I adore Katie Knudson's comics. If you haven't seen her work yet, go look up Loquacious Literature on Tumblr.
> 
> (I had technical issues with notes on this chapter so I deleted it and am re-uploading, hopefully it works this time!)

Harry was, had anyone asked him, quite nervous about taking mid-afternoon tea with posh socialites. He’d known Draco had money, everything about him practically screamed it. But actually seeing the manor house when he’d first arrived at the gate, with the lengthy driveway _(why did wizards need a driveway?)_ , extensive lawn and gardens _(the mental image of Dobby on a riding lawnmower led to him forcing down near-hysterical giggles)_ , and albino peacocks had been thoroughly impressive. If Uncle Vernon could see this he’d likely die of envy. Or shock. Or simply too many years of rich meals, culminating in the greatest display of wealth ever imagined. 

After a few brilliant hours of flying on Cleansweeps, a sport Harry took to immediately, the boys had been summoned from the garden via house elf to clean themselves before the meal. In the bathroom fresh clothing was provided for both. Harry felt quite awkward at being given clothing, but Draco’s enthusiasm calmed him. 

“This green matches your eyes, Harry, and wearing clothing that fits for once is only going to be an improvement to your features. Consider it a birthday gift from Mother; I’m certain it gave her joy to dress another child for once. It would be quite impolite to her if you came to her table in your dirty clothes, anyway, so you don’t really have a choice.”

Harry had to admit it felt nice to wear fitted clothes. He wasn’t completely sure about the way the collared shirt set off his face, he thought it over-emphasized his eyes and dusky skin, giving him a resemblance to cartoon characters. But the mirror’s enthusiasm _(and wasn’t that a shock, a talking mirror!)_ helped put his concerns to rest.

When Draco had stopped laughing at Harry’s reaction to the mirror they went together to the gazebo where Narcissa was reading. As they approached Harry’s nerves nearly took over. The graceful woman reading in a garden gazebo looked so much like the princess paintings he’d seen at the library, it couldn't be real. He was a useless freak, a charity case, and here he was about to take tea at a manor house with actual-facts nobility? Preposterous! Surely, he had hit his head on the underside of the stairs and this was all a dream? He did fly in his dreams, quite a lot lately… 

“Hey. HEY! Harry, let go; you’re going to squeeze off my arm,” Draco complained. Harry sucked in some air, head spinning, and pushed down his panic as he pulled his hands back. A few more breaths, he summoned up his courage. He didn’t know why the Malfoys were being so—well, not nice, but definitely cordial. Except Draco; Draco had gone beyond “nice”. The recent weeks of hope, much less today’s rescue, were due to Draco’s actions. The least he could do was thank them for it all, and not leave finger shaped bruises on his only friend.

“Is there a problem, boys?” A refined voice came from behind. Harry jumped and looked up to see Draco’s dad standing behind them.

“N-no sir, sorry. This is just so…overwhelming. I truly appreciate your inviting me to your home.”

“Yes, well. It’s the least we could do for the… _Savior_ of the Wizarding World.” Harry tried to keep his face frozen, but on the inside he frowned. Was the Malfoy’s generosity purely driven by his name? He knew Draco talked a lot about doing things for the reputation of the family, was his friendship simply an advantage for them? 

He realized Mr. Malfoy was still speaking. “…to introduce you to other wixen of similar age. Not knowing your culture is a travesty. All magical children should be raised by magical families to prevent misunderstandings and ensure their magical welfare. At the very least those who were born to magical parents have no reason to be placed with _muggles_.” The way he pronounced that word gave Harry a squeamish feeling in his stomach. He knew his own relatives were awful, but the tone suggested that Mr. Malfoy despised all non-magicals, regardless of their actual personality. 

Oh, both Malfoys were looking at him; he needed to say something. Best go for gushing gratitude, which always settled his uncle. Underneath the money and breeding, this wizard seemed to have a similar character to his uncle: prejudice, pride and the power of self-importance. “Thank you sir. I don’t know how I could ever repay you, though; just letting me associate with Draco today is the most amazing thing. I don’t know that I’m worth introducing to your friends. I’m just a kid from a cupboard. All this—” he made a vague gesture encompassing his clothes and the manor grounds, “is so much already.”

They reached the gazebo, and Draco’s mother had overheard Harry. She had set her book aside and now reached out her pale hands, taking his own calloused palm in hers. The disparity between their fingers, both skin tone and coarseness, was striking. Harry wondered whether the sensation would have been the same had his own mother lived. Had [i]her[/i] hands been both dainty and secure?

“Nonsense Harry. This is the world to which you were born; it is our duty and our pleasure to welcome you to our home.”

Harry felt a lump in his throat at her apparent sincerity. “Th-thank you, ma’am. I just…” he trailed off, his childish mind and words failing him.

“You are most welcome. I am only sorry no one intervened in your situation sooner. Please, sit.”

The boys sat in the spindly chairs, Lucius kissed his wife’s forehead and followed suit. A moment later the table was filled with tiny sandwiches, teacakes and brightly colored biscuits.  


It was the best meal Harry had ever eaten, and he suddenly felt very fond of the companionship that came with it.

Best birthday _ever._

***

Lucius was pleased. The boy’s scraping gratitude was well shown, he clearly knew his place in relation to the Malfoys. Having this boy indebted to the family was an advantage he couldn’t have predicted but was more than willing to exploit. He had already been broken by those muggles; it was incredibly lucky that Lucius been available to retrieve the boy and begin the rebuilding process. Dumbledore’s pernicious meddling had resulted in making the boy malleable to whomever first showed him kindness. He was certain the mealtime conversation had already planted seeds in the boy’s mind, which would sprout soon enough. Introducing him to the upper echelons of wizarding society would result in his being indebted to them for all his connections as well. What other mutually advantageous moves could he make? So long as Dumbledore wielded his power to keep the boy in a muggle household their impact could only stretch so far. Really, with three influential positions that man shouldn’t have had the time to interfere.

Lucius sat back in his desk chair and planned.

***

Lucius Malfoy had permitted Draco and James to take Harry home, but they were not to linger. James followed the two boys along the pavement, vigilantly observing Wisteria Walk, and then Privet Drive, for possible threats. The two were walking shoulder to shoulder, color contrasting heads tipped in each other’s direction. James caught a few words occasionally, _“elves,” “household,” “doesn’t seem fair”_ from Harry and a philosophical “way it is” from Draco, something about _station_ and _status_ , and then they were at Number 4.

Harry looked up at James, “Thank you for watching us, James. I'm grateful you made sure I arrived safely.” 

James nodded. “You’re welcome, Harry. I’ll be back to get you on Tuesday so you can join Draco for lessons.”

Draco enthusiastically nodded. “It’ll be so nice to have someone there for those. I know it’s all important but lessons alone are frightfully boring.” 

Harry ducked slightly. “Feels strange to think…private lessons, learning posh manners, for me.”

“Oh stop it. You associate with the Malfoys now. It’s our duty to ensure you represent us well.” 

***

Draco had seen Harry to his new room while Barnes stood intimidatingly in the hall, staring down a muggle man whose face roughly resembled a beetroot with a mustache. Honestly, Draco would be surprised if the creature didn’t tip over of an aneurysm sometime; that particular shade couldn't be healthy.

“Well, it isn’t a cupboard, but that’s a rather low bar to set, isn’t it?” Draco said as he eyed the room critically. He knew this muggle house was much, much too small to give Harry a room similar to his own, but this room still seemed miniscule. He wondered how large the other bedrooms in the house were.

The boys had started the brief inspection to the right side of the room; below an empty wall-mounted shelf was a bed that reached from corner nearly to the door. It wasn’t due to the size of the bed, but the size of the room, that it took up such a space. They continued looking to the left, a tired-looking desk stood beside a matching wooden wardrobe. A window directly across from the doorway had a small chest of drawers beneath it. The walls were a faded peachy color and the floor a neutral grey.

“It’s perfect,” Harry said, and Draco shook his head.

“No, but it’s a start.” He stuck out his hand. “See you soon.”

Harry shook his hand, “See you soon, Draco.”

***

That night Harry dreamed about lily gardens and summer skies.

Draco dreamed of green eyes peering out from a blindfold, lightning striking above them.

The Dursleys grumbled about _freaks_ and _lunatics_ in their slumber.

Lucius Malfoy dreamed of a boy on a throne, a Malfoy bent to whisper beside him.

Two boys, one light and one dark, ran through James’s dreams. Sometimes in a city he almost recognized, sometimes in a garden, and their features shifted to prevent him from knowing exactly who the two youths were. The blonde called the other Bucky, but surely Bucky hadn’t had a conspicuous scar across his forehead. 

James woke early, and stared into the darkness.


End file.
